


Oh, What A World

by cowpoke69



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Firsts, M/M, Pining, Prompt Fic, Sexual Content, they're both idiots but ed wins at this game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowpoke69/pseuds/cowpoke69
Summary: darklips_paleface gave me this prompt: Oswald and Edward meet on Tinder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darklips_paleface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklips_paleface/gifts).



_Did I know you once in another life?  
Are we here just once or a billion times?  
Well, I wish I knew, but it doesn't matter  
'Cause you're here right now, and I know what I feel _

Swiping left. Swiping right. Edward found himself swiping left most of the time, and he was slowly growing tired of this game. Over the past five months, he had come to the realization that dating strangers was not really meant for him. For a short period of time, he had tried his best to make the effort to go on dates after his shifts at the GCPD in one of those popular bars on the west side of Gotham.

The immaculate interiors did nothing for him. The cocktails were usually watered down, the food tasteless, the music mediocre. His dates, however, were always memorable. He did not know if this was due to the fact that he had a remarkable memory or the fact that he always seemed to match with the most extravagant men and women. He had even tried going out with Kristen and Lucius from work, but it ended up being the worst ideas of his entire life.

Kristen had ghosted him after their second evening together, ignoring him when he had tried to ask what he had done wrong. He figured she had probably lost her interest in him when he mentioned his love for the human anatomy, especially what lies inside of freshly dead bodies. He found this ridiculous, since she clearly knew he worked as a forensic expert, but he did not want to scare her further so he stopped interacting with her. He preferred being alone rather than acting like a creep.

Lucius on the other hand, shared his interests with an astounding passion. Their two-months fling was fun, as brief as it lasted, but it unfortunately did not go unnoticed. Captain Essen had a few opinions – or several, really – about their romance. Kissing in the morgue was unprofessional, and they both knew she was right. Protesting would have been ill-advised, so they both agreed to put an end to it. Trying to date out of their work place would have been useless, since they both spent most of their time there.

Edward was not lucky when it came to matters of the heart. And even if he did not specifically look for the love of his life, he could not bring himself to stop trying. There was something truly addictive about this app, and his brilliant mind had tried to come up with the perfect equation in order to find a scarce gem in the midst of all these lunatics. Bringing men like the flamboyant Victor Zsasz home had been a mistake that he was not ready to reiterate. 

After two weeks of trying out his new recipe for the perfect partner, he found himself getting ready for another date. He knew his name and his face. His reputation as well. But it had nothing to do with their conversations or his bio. None of that. His date’s name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue in the whole city. Cunning, powerful and devastatingly charming Oswald Cobblepot.

Edward was highly apprehensive, but no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that this evening was going to end up poorly, the mere idea that Oswald Cobblepot had swiped right upon seeing his picture and his bio on Tinder was enough to boost his confidence. There was something about this which made his lips curl up and his entire demeanor change. He had tried to hide this from his roommate, but Harvey Dent had always been able to see right through him.

“Wow, looking good, Ed,” Harvey said while crossing the living room towards the kitchen counter to refill his coffee mug.

It was already 7pm, and Harvey was well on his way to spend the night wide awake working on one of his cases. Edward shot him a quick glance, too focused on the stubborn strands of hair sticking out on the top of his head. He had tried his best to tame his usually curly mane, but his best was not enough. Harvey sat on the sofa, propping his back up against the teal blue cushions to observe him, sipping on his coffee from time to time.

“Who’s the lucky person?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity. 

Edward stopped trying with his hair; no amount of product could save him. When he sat on the sofa next to Harvey, he was careful not to ruin the amount of work he had put into ironing his dark green suit. The fabric was soft, classier than what he used to wear to work. A gift from Harvey two birthdays ago. It still fit him to perfection, and he was glad for this. He needed to look presentable, Oswald had said “fancy restaurant”, so fancy outfit it was.

“Someone. I don’t want to ruin my luck by saying his name.”

“So it’s a him,” Harvey whispered behind his mug.

Half of his face was hidden by it, but Edward could not miss the mischievous look his roommate shot him. There was the hint of a smile lingering on Harvey’s face when he set the mug down on the coffee table, before he stood up, stretching like a cat. Edward wanted to ask him for advice, but he did not recall Harvey ever dating someone. Not to his knowledge, at least.

“If this goes well, and you plan to bring him here, send me a text message. I’ll make sure to leave the premises before things get awkward.”

“Sure,” Edward replied, trying to hide the nervousness taking possession of his entire body and mind. A sensation which was slowly growing less and less bearable. 

_It’s just a date Edward. You can leave if things get too uncomfortable. He’s not gonna eat you alive. He’s just a man. You’ve dealt with worse._

Harvey gave him one last encouraging smile before going back to his room. Edward spent the remaining thirty minutes trying to focus on a documentary, but even the life of the neatly organized colonies of fire ants did not manage to distract him from the lump that was slowly but steadily starting to form inside of his throat. There was something so unnerving about this encounter, that he could not stop it from reaching his very core. And his mind, along with his body, were getting tense with each passing second.

_Don’t let fear ruin this for you. You haven’t met him yet. Give him a chance. Maybe he’s not as terrible as they all make it sound like._

 

 

 

There was nothing trendy about the place Oswald chose. When he had given him the address, Edward had gone on an elaborate search on the internet, in order to avoid any unpleasant surprises. He had specific tastes when it came to food, and he was glad to discover that Oswald had opted for an establishment ran by Sofia Falcone. Italian food was fine by him, and the reputation of the restaurant meant that it would be better than what he had hoped for. 

He hailed a taxi around 7:45pm. He did not want to be late, but not too early either. And it already felt like he was dancing on the edge of a narrow blade. He had not met him yet, but Oswald Cobblepot had a grasp on his life that he was not able to get rid of. The ride was calm, and Edward felt thankful. He took the opportunity to go over the few messages they had exchanged before Oswald had asked him on a date. 

They knew close to nothing about each other, but the few bits of information that he had managed to get were sufficient. Oswald was an only child, and just like him, he had been a lonely soul, who turned into an adult who spent most of his time alone. And there existed a stark difference between being alone and feeling lonely, Edward knew this, a bit too well.

He enjoyed going to museums on his own, browsing through the sections of a library with only his thoughts to keep him company, or just lying on the roof of his apartment building, stargazing for hours. But he dreaded the loneliness with a passion so fierce that it burned him all over. Waking up alone, with nothing but the faint sound of his own heart beating inside of his chest, had created a void that he was not sure anyone could ever fill.

When he got to the restaurant and followed the host to their table, he was glad to notice that Oswald had not arrived yet. He would have the time to drown himself into a thorough examination of the wine card, hopefully detailed enough to make him forget about his crippling anxiety. The conclusion he had drawn from his past experiences was probably accurate. There was a great chance that he was not at all made for casual dating.

_Stop this. Just stop. Please. You’re giving us a headache. Just make sure he doesn’t understand that you’re not really the sanest individual in the city and you’ll be just fine._

His other self’s intervention came at the perfect time. He looked up from the menu just as Oswald was entering the establishment. Bringing with him a whole other set of emotions. Handsome was too plain of a word to describe him. Oswald Cobblepot was the type of being you only had the chance to meet once in a lifetime, Edward knew this much with only one quick glance at him.

He could not pinpoint what it was exactly that made him stand out so much from the masses. But it was enough to send tingles shooting from his pine down to the tip of his fingers. Oswald Cobblepot was a vision, one he was sure he would not be able to forget even if he tried to. The host did not bother asking for his name, nor checked to see if it was on the list just like he had done with Edward a few moments ago. Instead he escorted Oswald to the table, and Edward wondered if he was aware of the power he held over others.

There was something about him, so intimidating yet so magnetic, that Edward could not look away. It felt like if he did look away – even for one second – he would probably miss something on Oswald’s expressive features, or in the slight limp of his right leg. So Edward looked at him until he was seated on the chair opposite his. Oswald had not said a word yet, but it felt like it would be alright if he remained silent. Edward feared his voice would be as soft as the way his lashes looked and as delicate as the hand he extended to shake his. 

“Good evening, Edward.”

_You’re done for._

Edward did not find the strength to argue with his consciousness. It was the truth, plain and simple, and there was nothing he could do about it. When his own hand touched Oswald’s, not an ounce of doubt remained inside of his heart. Edward looked into his eyes, unable to tell if they were blue or grey, before replying with a voice too low for his own liking, his previous apprehension now replaced by the electrifying feeling of Oswald’s skin against his.

“Nice to meet you, Oswald.”

When Oswald stopped shaking his hand, Edward found himself biting the inside of his cheek at the loss of contact. For the first time in years, he had not felt the need to put an end to a physical connection with a stranger. He did not feel the urge to wash his hand, nor the will to rub it against his pants. Instead, it was as if Oswald’s hand had branded his palm, a mark so intense he was surprised it had not burned his flesh. Oswald smiled at him, not entirely cold but still restrained. And when Edward smiled back at him, something lingered past the barrier of his lips, so reckless it sent his mind buzzing with a million thoughts.

_You’re falling Edward. So fast. It will hurt. Stop it while you still can. Please._

But when Oswald spoke, again, Edward did not mind the fall. He did not care about what he would find at the bottom of that pit, no matter how hurtful it might be. He was enjoying the plunge, so much that his own nails digging into the palms of his hands in pure self-defense did not stop him from falling faster and faster with each word the other man pronounced.

“Shall we order first?” Oswald asked, motioning towards the menu lying flat against the table, where Edward had left it, “See something you like?”

Edward was glad for the lack of witty intervention from his darker thoughts. He barely had the strength to hold Oswald’s gaze, and he was grateful for the silence his mind had chosen to grant him. Besides, he did not need his other-self to remind him of the plain truth. Oswald had awakened something inside of him, and there was no need to fight against it. He tried to remember his roommate’s words of wisdom from one of his previous date nights.

_“Be natural. Be yourself. I mean, there is a limit though. Don’t mention random fun facts that only you would find funny. Got it?”_

Edward only remembered the first part of Harvey’s advice, “There’s a Pinot Noir that would pair quite well with the spiced duck. I heard this particular vintage has notes of mushrooms and licorice. But if you don’t like duck and prefer the grilled trout I reckon it would still work well with it. Can you believe they have the 2007 vintage? I read it’s one of the best—”

_Shut up._

Edward had done it again. It only took him the mere sensation of feeling comfortable enough with one person in order to let loose. And Oswald, who was looking at him with a soft expression, did not really seem to mind it. He had listened, both of his hands clasped under his chin, focused on the knowledge Edward longed to share. It was pouring out of him, and he could not bring himself to shut it down.

“Maybe I should hire you as my sommelier if this doesn’t work out,” Oswald joked, surprising Edward with the nonchalance with which he was referring to their date.

It was a date, indeed, but oddly they had only exchanged polite salutations and talked about the menu. Edward had tried so hard to persuade himself that this was going to be a disaster, that he did not think about the fact that making this work would mean talking about themselves. It would mean talking about himself. About his life, his dreams, his fears.

_Him first._

Edward cleared his throat, hiding his anxiousness behind his eyelids, lowering them to look at the menu. It was simple, yet so terrifying. Oswald was a few inches away from him, he could reach out with one hand to feel his skin against his fingers if he wanted to. That was easy. Too easy. What was unnerving, however, was how paralyzing it felt to even think about getting to know him. Really know him. 

“What is it that you do exactly? I’ve seen you in the news, people talk a great deal about you, but they never seem to know what you’re up to.”

Oswald smiled at his question, all teeth, and Edward could practically see him building concrete walls all around himself.

“What did you hear, specifically?”

“Rumors,” Edward lowered his voice, “some say that you’re behind Fish Mooney’s demise.”

For half a second, Edward saw the ghost of a grin on Oswald’s features, quickly replaced by a neutral expression. But what he had seen was enough to confirm his suspicions. Oswald was not just a successful business man. His fortune was not inherited. He had earned it. It was easy to understand. But there was something Edward could not fathom.

“You don’t seem to have any—allies, for lack of a better word. Why is that?”

Oswald studied him, visibly searching for the right words, blue-grey eyes lost in his. Edward found himself holding his gaze, eagerly waiting for an answer. Oswald took his time, letting the words dangle on the edge of his lips, enjoying the way Edward seemed to thrive off of as little information as he could get, unable to hide his fascination.

“Why would I need allies, when I already have a hard time keeping an eye on my enemies?”

_Fair point._

“Fair point,” Edward echoed, his eyes still searching Oswald’s for secrets he yearned to know. 

But Oswald would not surrender so easily. The scarce amount of honesty he found in his irises would have to do for now. Edward smiled back at him, grabbing the menu in one swift motion. He would have to wait in order to quench his thirst. Hours, days, years, he did not mind. What mattered was the way Oswald bit his lower lip, fighting against the urge to laugh at the way Edward almost jumped off of his chair when his cellphone vibrated in the pocket of his suit jacket.

Edward reluctantly looked at the screen of his old Nokia, “I’m sorry, it’s probably Harvey.”

“Harvey?”

Edward left Oswald waiting for an answer, typing a quick reply to Harvey’s text message who was wishing him the best of luck in his quest to “ _get laid_ ” and hoping that he did not “ _get cat fished_ ” or he would willingly help him take legal actions. When he put the cellphone back into his pocket, Oswald was still waiting for an explanation, leaning forward expectantly.

“My roommate,” Edward admitted, a tad embarrassed by the fact that he was still sharing his apartment with someone else at the age of twenty-eight.

“Must be nice,” Oswald said, what Edward sensed as a hint of envy lingering on his tone.

“What? Sharing a small apartment with a future district attorney five years younger than me?”

“Living with someone,” Oswald replied.

Edward did not immediately reply, too focused on the unmistakable loneliness he heard on Oswald’s tone. He was right after all. They were both lonely souls, who had managed to find each other in the never ending chaos of Gotham City. There was nothing romantic about their encounter, no uniqueness to it, but still; Edward felt that the delicate fingers of fate had a lot to do with that unlikely alliance.

“Do you live alone?”

“I do have a cook, but Olga doesn’t talk much,” Oswald punctuated the end of his sentence with a sad smile.

Edward wanted to make it disappear, a dreadful emotion he could so easily blow away with just a kiss or honeyed words. He shifted on his seat, slowly coming to the realization that he was growing too attached – too fond – too quickly. It was just a matter of time before his body would betray him, he knew this, especially with the way his fingers were twitching, aching to touch him again.

“Never found someone to share your accomplishments with?”

_Idiot. Why would you ask that? He wouldn’t be on a date with you if—_

“I did. At least I thought I did. It was a long time ago. He never reciprocated. I guess it wasn’t worth the worry and the—”

Oswald looked up from where his eyes had been previously focusing, way below Edward’s actual face, and stopped talking upon realizing that he was oversharing. Edward could see, in the subtle way he wrinkled his nose, that Oswald had grown used to keep those intimate thoughts to himself. He had learned to deal with his own demons, within the private confines of his mind. But in his desperately clear eyes, Edward saw the truth. There was no need for smart words or elaborate explanations.

_You have much more in common than meets the eye. Birds of a feather, Eddie. Just go for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on twitter @cowpoke690


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, hi,,, so sorry for the late update,, for some reason i was super stressed about this chapter so it took me a while to come up with something that i deemed good enough to be published,,, hopefully you'll like it! i listened to tons of songs while writing this so i'll make a list with some of them in the final notes

_You have much more in common than meets the eye. Birds of a feather, Eddie. Just go for it._

Edward could not precisely recall at which point he had decided to trust his instinct and go for it. Nothing really made sense anymore, especially not when Oswald seemed to be so interested in _him_. They had been drinking the Pinot Noir he suggested for a little while now, and he could feel his nerves loosening with each passing second.

He was far from being intoxicated, but the wine turned him into a more careless version of himself. He was conscious of the fact that no matter what Oswald said, it felt like it was the most important thing he had ever heard in his entire life. He did not really know if it was because of the wine, or because of Oswald’s appealing personality. 

Edward could sense the danger on his tone and the power in his demeanor. It was so thrilling that he could not stop himself from studying his every move. The delicate movement of his wrist when he snapped his fingers at a waiter, the slight twitch in the right corner of his lips when he smiled, the particular shape of his nose, the ever-changing color of his eyes. Little details so fascinating, so endearing, so Oswald.

The attraction was such that he wondered how long it would take for Oswald to discover the truth. The fall had ended, and Edward was now swimming in a pool of his own emotions. He was in deep waters, and they were patiently waiting for him to let his guard down to fully drown him. He could feel something pulling at his feet and his elbows, luring him into the shadows. So tempting, yet terrifying.

_Stop this._

Edward set his glass a little bit too hard on the table, sending some of the wine splashing on the beige tablecloth. Oswald immediately stopped talking, looking at him with a funny expression. If he did not win his heart by the end of the night, Edward found comfort in the idea that he had the ability to entertain him. Oswald dabbed at the stain with his own napkin before breaking into a grin.

“I suggest you tone it down with the wine,” he said, more of an order than a suggestion.

Edward swore he could feel himself blushing like a blooming rose, “I—Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Oswald nodded in agreement. Of course he was right. Edward knew the King of Gotham did not need his approval to know that. Edward was getting lost into the realm of his imagination — wondering how the rest of the evening could unfold, calculating the probabilities of a happy ending — when Oswald grabbed his wrist. It was the second time they touched, and Edward almost yelped in surprise.

“I think we should leave.”

Edward was too busy trying to keep himself from erupting into a nonsensical ramble. He could only look at the hand on his wrist. The rings that adorned Oswald’s knuckles. His delicate fingers touching him. How he longed for them to move against his skin. The moment was suspended in time, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Harvey was whistling lowly, proving to be the perfect distraction to his depraved thoughts.

_I think you should leave. With him. Possibly._

What if Oswald didn’t want this. What if he had already taken the decision to politely decline whatever Edward had to propose. Self-doubt grew inside of him, like a poisonous plant, cruel and unforgiving. Edward finally looked back at Oswald, wishing he was talented enough to draw the piercing eyes that were fixated on him. He did not have the heart to get his hopes up, so he just went for a neutral answer.

“I would like that very much.”

 

 

From the leather on the seats to the personal chauffeur in the limo on the way back, Edward could tell that Oswald made the type of money he would never possess. He marveled at the fact that however, he did not seem to bask in the knowledge that more than half of the city was his. He carried his power in other ways, subtler and far more compelling. Edward was trying to busy his mind with the thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Oswald would make the first move.

_This has nothing to do with luck._

Edward leaned against the window, muttering some unintelligible curse to himself. He had spent most of his life relying on reason, and there he was, thinking that luck would make Oswald Cobblepot want him, appreciate him or even look at him. Half of his mind wanted to be home already, and the other wanted to stay in that limo forever.

On his left, Oswald was talking to Sofia Falcone through the open window. She had spotted them leaving the establishment while she was talking to one of her employees. The both of them seemed to be sharing some valuable information, whispering into each other’s ears like they were the best of friends. Edward deducted that they were probably close, since Oswald did not seem to be the type of person who would whisper and giggle with his enemies. Rumor had it he was rather known for destroying them with his bare hands.

“Have fun with your date Ozzie,” Sofia said, at last, and in a heartbeat she was gone. 

Edward focused on a stain on the window, blushing at the way Oswald politely laughed at her comment. He wondered why on earth he did not take a taxi to go home. But Sofia was right, to be fair. They were on a date, and things had gone fairly well until now. The evening had been fun so far and maybe Oswald would want to see him again another time. Maybe he would offer to take him—

“Where do you want to go?”

Oswald spoke, softly, and Edward almost snapped his neck in half looking at him. The confusion in his eyes was probably apparent, but he did not care much for it. Oswald was giving him a choice – a chance – and he had to think carefully about his answer. Surely, Oswald knew what he was doing by asking this particular question. Edward looked into his eyes for a bit too long before lowering his gaze. 

He had wanted to know more about him since they had matched a few weeks ago, he had managed to get a date pretty easily and now Oswald was more or less letting him choose the fate of their evening. They had three options. Edward looked at the embroidery on Oswald’s tie. Purple and silver bringing out the color of his eyes. He needed time to think about his next move. 

_It’s pretty simple, really. You go to your place. You go to his place. Or you just call it quits and go your separate ways. Pretty. Simple._

And then, Oswald touched him for the third time that evening and Edward stopped thinking. It was not a hard task. Not when Oswald’s hand brushed against his knuckles. Not when Edward had to remind himself that he needed to breathe in order to stay alive. Not when Oswald was already leaning in, his voice a soft whisper, his lips already so close to his neck. 

“Do you need me to reiterate the question?”

Edward breathed in, sharply, before nodding. He did not know why he did that, but he figured it would give him more time to stop himself from internally melting. Oswald’s fingers were now going up and down the back of his hand, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It was too late to go back now. Edward was willingly letting Oswald overpower him. He understood that not only when he felt Oswald smiling against his cheek, but when he – himself – slightly moved his face to let that smile brush against his own lips.

“Where do you want to go?” Oswald said again, this time more suggestively, his lips getting closer to Edward’s.

Edward closed his eyes, already lost in the feeling. It was merely a kiss, really, but it was enough. He knew the answer to that question from the moment Oswald came into that restaurant. From the moment he laid his eyes on him. From the moment he felt the atmosphere change all around him. Fate, love, lust, it did not matter. Edward was falling for Oswald, and there was no need to justify it. It was simply happening and he vowed to enjoy every single second, minute or hour he would be granted with him.

“Wherever you wanna go,” his reply was barely a whisper against Oswald’s lips, but it was enough.

The boldness of his own answer surprised Edward. His heart was racing when Oswald’s thumb started tracing his lower lip, absent-mindedly. Oswald seemed to be thinking. Edward leaned into the touch. If Oswald rejected him now, at least he would have this. The memory of his skin against his, the glint of whatever he was thinking about in his pale eyes, the way his temple slightly tensed from time to time.

 _It’s fine if you’ve changed your mind. It’s fine if you don’t want me,_ Edward wanted to say. But the words got caught in his throat, choking on the last remaining bits of courage he had left. If he did not want him, Edward would understand. The King of Gotham did not owe him anything. No one did, really. He was just Edward Nygma, nothing much to look at, not really worth knowing, not good enough. At least, it is what his darker demons whispered most of the time. After all this time, he had started to believe them.

Oswald said something to his chauffeur, but his voice was too distant, to surreal to reach Edward’s mind in time. He was already accepting his fate, preparing himself to get dumped and spend the rest of the evening ranting to Harvey while eating ice cream. And then, Oswald’s finger on his lips was gone, leaving something awfully similar to a burning sensation where it had been a few moments earlier. Oswald’s other hand moved as well, to rest higher on his forearm, and he smiled, wicked and dreadfully charming.

“Where were we?”

_Go. For. It._

And Edward did. For the hundredth time that evening, he went for it. With his lips; chasing after Oswald’s like it was the only way he could express what he felt. With his hands; grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer. With his breath; catching in his throat when Oswald finally kissed him back, properly, fully, the soft press of his lips growing less restrained when Edward closed his eyes, letting himself finally enjoy what he was given without listening to his other-self.

For all he knew, Oswald could have asked his chauffeur to drive him back to his apartment. But he did not care much for where he would end up that night. Wherever it was in his own bed, or in a five-star hotel, or even in that very same limo, it did not matter to him. Not when Oswald was already busy fumbling with the buttons of his jacket, fingers deftly getting rid of the layer, discarding it on the floor of the limo. Edward tried to do the same, but in vain, his fingers shaking way too much to be useful. Oswald smiled against his lips, breaking the kiss to whisper.

“Slow down.”

Edward did slow down, only to give him an honest reply, “You make it so difficult.”

Oswald only laughed, low and mischievous, before leaning in to capture his lips once again, and Edward felt himself melting against them. It was soft, different from the way they had rushed a few moments before, but still, behind the soft press of Oswald’s lips, he could sense that it was not enough. Neither for Oswald, and certainly not for him. But being in a car, with a chauffeur only a few inches from them, did not really provide the intimacy they needed to allow themselves to fully give in to their desires.

“Where are you taking me?” Edward asked, leaving open mouthed kisses right under Oswald's sharp jawline, all edges and self-control.

From this close, he was able to see the way his muscles tensed every time he kissed him, sometimes a quick peck, sometimes lingering a little longer just to hear a soft sigh escape his lips. A flash of concern ran through his veins when Oswald did not reply immediately. Oswald’s fingers rested under Edward’s chin, gently guiding his face upwards to observe him. Fire was dancing behind Edward’s eyes when in Oswald’s he could sense a much more guarded lust.

“What would you want Edward?”

_Everything. You. This._

“I thought you told your chauffeur our destination already?”

Oswald laughed, more at himself than at how Edward sounded, so desperate and seemingly lost in a tempest of emotions, “I told her to drive until we’ve made up our minds.”

“Well,” Edward whispered, his fingers playing with Oswald’s tie, “I think I’ve made my intentions pretty clear for the past ten minutes.”

“You’ve made them pretty clear, yes” Oswald replied, letting Edward tug against his tie until they were sharing another one of those lustful kisses.

A few kisses later, he knocked on the divider separating them from the driver and asked, “Please take us home Caroline, will you?”

“On it boss.”

 

 

Edward spent the rest of the ride to Oswald’s mansion trying to deal with what was happening. In between feverish kisses and the distracting fact that Oswald’s fingers were going higher and higher against his thigh, he did not manage to get a moment alone with his thoughts. It was probably for the better, that much he knew. Over the years, his mind had proved to be quite inclined to sabotage his relationships rather than being of any use.

He did not recall taking the time to look at the breathtaking architecture of the mansion, nor at the way the furniture was organized when they walked past the living room. What he did remember though, was the fact that Oswald had led him to his room, upstairs, stopping every other second to push him against a wall to steal a few kisses. The height difference made it difficult sometimes, but Oswald totally made up for it when he shoved him against his bed as soon as they entered the master bedroom. Edward let out a laugh when the reality of what was happening hit him.

He was in Oswald’s mansion, in the bed of one of the most feared man in the entire city, and they had been kissing for the past thirty minutes. The thought was intoxicating, and his laugh came from deep inside, quickly replaced by a whimper when Oswald leaned over him, his lips already busy leaving a mark right above the collar of his shirt. Edward reached for the hair at the nape of Oswald’s neck, pulling on it just enough to make him stop and meet his eyes. Oswald looked at him through half-lidded eyes, already too far gone. Something stronger than lust lied behind his behavior. Something Edward saw in the curve of his lips when he smiled at him.

Something he felt in his core when Oswald whispered lowly against his ear, “Just say the words.”

 _Which ones exactly,_ Edward wondered. He slightly leaned up, biting a patch of skin right under Oswald’s jawline, releasing it only when he was sure his administration would leave a mark the following morning. He hoped it was enough. He hoped Oswald would understand that it was okay. That he was ready to give him his everything, that he had already done it the second he met him anyway, that even if it only lasted for a night, he would be grateful.

“Say it,” Oswald asked, half-begging him. 

Right there, settled in between Edward’s legs, he looked strangely vulnerable. The moment was suspended in time, as if the entire world had just stopped – or Oswald’s entire world, really – waiting for Edward to grant him a reply. Edward focused on the way Oswald’s tongue nervously darted out of his mouth to wet his lips, the way his brows furrowed in a display of concern, the soft tick of an alarm clock somewhere in the room. 

“I want you.”

It was easier than what he had imagined. Saying those three words his mind and body and soul kept screaming at him from the moment he saw Oswald. Want. An emotion so common, yet so complex. It was not made of lust, but rather a terrible longing which clawed at him, desperate to get out of his chest. And Oswald smiled at him, leaning once more to capture his lips, a gesture so chaste Edward felt himself blushing. 

And then Oswald’s left hand was against his thigh, and he blushed for a different reason. He did not mean to moan so loudly, but it was difficult to remain silent when Oswald’s shaking fingers were already trying to unfasten his belt. It took him a few tries, a few broken kisses to curse at his own clumsiness, but he eventually made it. The belt ended up on the floor, along with the last remnants of Edward’s shyness.

Oswald was still fully clothed, and it would not do, not with the way things were going. Passionate, desperate. He tugged at the sides of his suit jacket and Oswald stopped touching him, helping him slide it down his arms, discarding it on the other end of the bed. They were both naked in no time, and the sweet release of Oswald’s hips rolling against his made him cry out in pleasure.

“Slow down,” it was Edward’s turn now, to ask for this tiny favor, or else he was sure he would have lost his mind on the spot.

Oswald slowed down, or at least he tried, asking between feverish kisses, “What’s wrong?”

Edward reached up with both of his hands, letting them rest on each side of Oswald’s face, taking his time to collect his thoughts, “I never went this far with a man. I just— I need to take it slow.”

Oswald laughed, so fondly it made Edward close his eyes, praying to a god he didn’t believe in to let him remember this sweet sound for the rest of his life. 

“I never went this far with anyone, Ed. You’re my first kiss. My first time. My first everything.”

_Oh._

Edward remained quiet, letting the information sink in. The fact that he was Oswald’s very first conquest was news to him. He had expected him to be the type to come home with another person every other night. Power did attract people, but the fact that Oswald was a crime boss probably scared them away. Oswald did not scare him. How could someone so sweet behind closed doors wreak havoc on the city on a daily basis? He was fierce and sweet and handsome and unexperienced and alluring and strong and—

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” Edward finally said, his hand tentatively reaching towards Oswald’s crotch.

Oswald simply nodded, unable to give him a coherent reply, hissing when Edward’s fingers wrapped around his erection. Edward figured he would experiment to see what Oswald liked best, since it was his very first time with someone at all. He opted for a slow pace, enjoying the way Oswald’s forehead gently rested against his collarbone. He could feel his hot breath hitting his skin, soft moans escaping his lips from time to time. But eventually, Oswald kept doing something that made Edward slow down. 

“Oswald,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Oswald looked up, his expression struck in between bliss and frustration, “What?”

Edward chuckled before reversing their position to push Oswald against the pillows. He figured it would be more comfortable for him that way, especially when he spotted his leg brace lying on the bed next to them.

“You keep holding your breath.”

“Well,” Oswald retorted, eyebrows crinkling, “you make it very hard to focus on breathing, really.”

“Is that so?” Edward whispered playfully before dragging his hand over Oswald’s erection.

Oswald moaned, louder this time, arching his back just enough against the pillows to make Edward bite his own lip. He was a vision, handsome and exposed, so powerless yet still able to own him with every single one of his reactions. And it did not matter to Edward if Oswald never returned the favor. He was panting and squirming under _his_ touch, and it was enough for him. Edward got closer to him, observing the crease in between his eyebrows, the thin layer of sweat forming on his bare chest, the way Oswald gasped for air every now and then.

And then Oswald said his name, voice strained and high pitched, broken and sweet. Edward kissed him, half of his mind trying to process the fact that Oswald had just pronounced his name so blissfully, so prettily. Oswald’s hand rested against the nape of his neck, trembling fingers trying to grab his hair, desperately wanting to cling on to something —anything. Edward scooted closer to Oswald on the bed, settling between his legs, looking down to witness the way Oswald was shamelessly rocking into his palm.

Edward hid his satisfied smile in the curve of his partner’s neck, taking in his scent; lavender and licorice. Or maybe he had tasted the latter on his lips. Everything was a blur. Oswald held him against his chest, the fingers previously tangled in Edward’s damp hair slowly tensing, and nothing else mattered at all. He had him, all of him, and it was enough. It was enough. He was lost, _so lost,_ and Oswald had not even touched him yet, but he was already too far gone now.

“Ed,” Oswald’s voice reached the fogginess of his mind, “more.”

_Anything. I would do anything for you._

 

 

And Edward did give him more on that night. The passion and the softness, his demons and the most vulnerable parts of his self. He gave his all to Oswald. He gave him whatever he needed, whatever he wanted, whatever he deemed worthy of having. And Oswald did take it, so greedily yet so gently that Edward found himself holding his breath and crying his name out loud more than once. Oswald was a quick learner. The thought occurred to him when he was lying on his belly, utterly spent, listening to the soothing sound of Oswald’s regular breathing, barely audible because of the raging storm outside. 

Edward cursed the weather internally, mindful not to wake him up. He looked so at peace, his messy hair falling against his forehead, so different from the usual spiky hairstyle he had when their night of debauchery began. Edward kept smiling to himself, his head resting on his crossed arms, one of his legs uncomfortably resting over Oswald’s uninjured leg. He did not mind the stretch; he could not bring himself to let go of him. Oswald had held him and kissed him and owned him in ways he did not think were even possible. 

And yet, it was real. The thought made him too ecstatic, too jittery to fall asleep. He tried to distract himself by reciting the periodic table of elements back and forth. When it failed, he checked his cellphone, finding that Harvey had left him three voicemails and fifteen text messages. He replied briefly, promising he was very much alive and not in the trunk of a car at the bottom of the Gotham river, just like Harvey feared. 

He tossed and turned in bed some more, listening to the sounds around them, wondering if the maid had heard them. Then he went for a walk around the mansion, grabbing one of Oswald’s robes to cover himself — black and embroidered with gold. He looked at the paintings and the vases, spent some time in the library, browsing through the books, wondering how many Oswald had already read. Much later he ended up in the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water before going back upstairs. 

Oswald was awake, looking at him with a wide-eyed expression when he spotted the robe he was wearing. Edward half expected him to ask him what he was still doing here instead of hurrying back home, where he could not ever see him again. Edward grabbed the fabric of the silk robe to hug it tighter against his chest, slowly getting ready to get his pride and his heart broken. He was way past the point of pretending that he had not entirely fallen for him. It was pointless, not logical, useless.

_Denying the truth won’t make it hurt less._

Oswald yawned before settling back against the pillows, smiling at the ceiling. Edward took it as a sign that it was okay for him to step further, to get closer. To him, to his warmth, to his ways. Oswald was a specific brand of being. Unpredictable, yet so raw and emotionally driven. Edward lied besides him, starring at the ceiling as well. Where Oswald had a smile on his lips, Edward was frowning, confusion written all over his features.

“It looks good on you,” Oswald whispered after a while, reaching out with his hand to hold Edward’s.

Edward guessed he meant the robe, but he did not trust his mind anymore, so he just held Oswald’s hand in return. After a while of silent hand holding, Oswald turned to his side, facing him, before coming closer, lazily resting an arm across Edward’s waist. Edward did not trust himself to break the silence. He feared he would end up saying something too dangerous, too fond, too enamored. So he remained silent. Listening. Taking it all in. Letting his mind enjoy the peace and quiet of being held, cared for, completely surrendering to the burning sensation of Oswald’s lips on his neck, his hands playing with his hair, his voice when he said “Will you stay a little bit longer? I could get used to this.”

That is precisely when Edward knew that the fall had been worth it.

 

 

_Oh what a world,_  
_And then there was you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, what a world — kacey musgraves  
> slow burn — kacey musgraves  
> latch — disclosure  
> you & me — disclosure  
> rocket man — taron egerton (the movie version, i’m obsessed)  
> dreams — fleetwood mac  
> plastic love — mariya takeuchi  
> cry baby — the neighborhood  
> sweater weather — the neighborhood  
> sleepover — hayley kiyoko  
> feelings — hayley kiyoko  
> bloom — troye sivan  
> my, my, my — troye sivan  
> bitter sweet symphony — the verve  
> movement — hozier  
> la vie en rose — edith piaf  
> la foule — edith piaf  
> stop, babe — tokio hotel


End file.
